


The Host

by Tish



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8431552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: Can anything stop a planned alien invasion?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [makiyakinabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makiyakinabe/gifts).



“May it please your Lordship,” XXxcr'75dff>A+ intoned reverently as he assumed the appropriate degree of submission. “I beg leave to submit my latest report on the human subject to which you, in your infinite wisdom and mercy have tasked me. My Lordship, since I have become conjoined to my subject, I have been the object of derision and ridicule the likes of which I have never experienced before. These humans thrive on the mockery of others, a bizarre concept unknown to our enlightened selves. My Lordship, I fear that should you arrive here without strict training of these inferior beings, you are likely to suffer such vile abuse of your noble countenance. There is much work to be done.”

 

XXxcr'75dff>A+ finished sending his report and crawled back to his host, hoping for a good night's rest before facing a new day of indignities. At least his host always gave him a lovely bathing ritual which left him soft and luxurious.

 

“It is with great sorrow that I send this latest report. Today, an object called a crash helmet was forced over me, smothering me almost to the point of asphyxiation. Before I knew it, my host had launched himself onto a zipline, the wind rushing through me like a demon. Then everything suddenly stopped and we hung there for an eternity. My Lordship, there was more abuse heaped upon us. Numpty, twat, some other dreadful words I couldn't possibly repeat.” The alien scout finished his report and buried himself on his host, exhausted.

 

XXxcr'75dff>A+ trembled as he prepared himself, trying to find the right words. “My Lordship, it is with great regret that I must plead for release from this mission. I fear my attachment to the host is becoming problematic. The host has referred to another world leader as _fucking a goat_. It seems this was in an art form known as poetry, and it won a prize for some bizarre reason. He's also referred to the watermelon smiles of dark-skinned persons. This remark seems to have met with great disapproval in some quarters, and I fear for my host's safety. I fear my presence may be impairing his mental facilities, which puts our mission in jeopardy. May it please your Lordship to seriously consider this request. Please. _Help_?”

 

Day after day, gaffe after gaffe, XXxcr'75dff>A+ waited for a reply. Finally, at long last, the blinking light of the transmitter signalled the reply.   
“Reassignment approved. New host selected. Details to follow.”

XXxcr'75dff>A+ almost wept with joy as he settled onto his new host, rearranging himself to simulate his host's complicated hairstyle. Praise his Lordship, nothing would go wrong with this human. That night, after the host's toxic rambling about walls, XXxcr'75dff>A+ began the first of many screaming and weeping sessions.


End file.
